The Debt & the Doormat(26)

I break away from him and notice Jazz smiling at me suspiciously. A sickening feeling creeps into my stomach, the tension growing by the second.

‘Well...I better go to bed.’

My body feels tingly all over and a stupid grin threatens to break across my face. The same grin I used to get when I fancied boys at school. Why does he make me feel like a teenager? Jazz keeps looking at me, a hundred questions on her face. I avoid her.

‘It's early,’ Izzy protests. ‘Why don't you chill for a bit longer?’

‘No thanks. I’m tired. Tonight was enough excitement.’ I smile knowingly at both of them.

Ryan looks at all of us suspiciously.

‘I should get to bed too. Got an interview tomorrow,’ Ryan says, getting up as I do. ‘You girls can wash up, right?’ He walks quickly behind me before they can protest.

‘Well, goodnight,’ he says, once I’m outside my door.

I stupidly get the feeling that I’m on a date and he’s dropping me home. I look up to him, his gaze mesmerising me. He puts his hand up as if to touch my face, hovers it for a second and then tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, sending shivers up the back of my neck. I hope he didn’t notice.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he says, his face serious, towering over me.

My breathing gets faster and faster, but I’m frozen. I literally cannot move a muscle.

‘Yem,’ I mumble.

Fuck, did I just say yem? I’m literally losing the skill of speech.

He turns and bounds up the stairs, an amused expression on his face. I go into my room before Jazz can assault me with questions and throw myself under the duvet. I lay there, still trembling and panting, not sure if I want to get sick or have another dream about him. Ok, now I get it. I’m suddenly aware of how he pulls so many women.





Chapter 10




‘I’m afraid that we’ve had a complaint about Hugh,’ Victor says the next day.

‘What?’ I ask, totally thrown. Where did this come from? I haven’t said anything.

‘Yes,’ he says, biting his thumb nail. ‘HR received a phone call this morning from a solicitor, warning that he had a client willing to take the company to a tribunal for sexual harassment.’

‘You’re joking?’ I ask, trying desperately to keep a straight face and seem shocked.

‘I’m afraid not Poppy. Dreadful business. I’m also afraid that this isn’t the first time I’ve had such a complaint about him.’

‘Really?’

Victor exhales sharply. ‘He was previously working at the Hertford office, but I had to move him when I received another complaint much like this one.’

Oh my God. I slept with a sex pervert. I shudder at the thought of it. Note to self: ring Jazz and tell her I’m never listening to her advice again.

‘But obviously, this must remain between us. We can't let such a scandal get out; it could ruin me.’

‘No, of course not.’ I nod professionally. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I really don't know. I’ll have to speak to him, obviously, but I just hope his wife will be so forgiving. She was furious that they had to move because of his behaviour. This might really be the end for them and to be frank I couldn’t blame her.’

‘That's terrible.’ I purse my lips together sympathetically and try not to smile.

* * *





As soon as I’m back at my desk I whip my temporary phone out of my bag. Izzy gave me an old phone the weight of a brick.

‘Was that you? Were you the solicitor?’ I text him.

I drum my fingers on the desk impatiently waiting for a reply.

BEEP BEEP.

I nearly drop the phone in excitement.

‘Maybe’

Is that all he can reply? God, you have to seriously drag information out of him.

‘Ok, well thanks. Good luck 2day in your interview’

That's not too desperate, right? I mean, maybe I should have been totally indifferent and not bothered texting back. Left him wanting more or something? When it beeps again I notice Cheryl eyeing me suspiciously.

‘Lots of beeping going on over there. Got a fancy man, have you?’ she asks, smiling smugly.

You’d think that finding out your husband is shagging someone else would make you reflect on yourself for a while. But no. I haven’t even had a chance to ask her if she's OK and already she's acting as if nothing happened last night.

‘No, no, just a friend thanks.’ I smile politely through gritted teeth.

‘Thanks. I’ll prob be knackered after so can't be bothered to cook. You want to catch dinner?’

I nearly pass out in excitement. He wants to take me out to dinner! Why am I getting so excited? Calm down Poppy, get a hold of yourself. A friend is asking you to dinner. You don't get this excited when Jazz asks you out to Pizza hut.

‘Oh, you young ones. Carefree and single; I remember the days,’ Cheryl says, smiling off into the distance.

‘Actually Cheryl, you’re only a year older than me.’

‘I know sweetheart, and look at the difference between us.’ She smiles sympathetically. ‘I’m married with a gorgeous baby at home and you’re still...painting the town red.’

Sorry? Your husband is cheating on you? And gorgeous baby? Shrek called - he wants his baby back. But I obviously can't say this to her. She must be in severe denial.

‘Yes, well. We have very different lives,’ I retort. Why can't she leave me alone so I can just text him back in peace?

‘And such a shame. You were so close to getting it all with Stuart.’

God, his name hits me like a dart to the heart every time I hear it.

‘Yeah thanks for the reminder. Now, if you don't mind, I’m actually really busy.’

‘Ok cool’ I text back, my fingers shaking with excitement.

‘I’ll book a table and text you details later’

I’m going to dinner with Ryan! How exciting! I turn my attention back to Cheryl.

‘How are you anyway, Cheryl? You know, since last night?’

‘Last night?’ She flutters some papers around her desk as if she's very busy.

‘Yes, last night. You know...’ I lower my voice to a whisper ‘when we saw them.’

‘Actually Poppy, I’d appreciate it if you kept out of my marriage. It really is none of your business.’

‘Wow. You were the one dragging me along yesterday,’ I say defensively.

‘I’m afraid I’m very busy.’ She turns away from me, already typing an e-mail.

I hope it's to your divorce lawyer, you horrible bitch.

* * *





My good mood is short lived when Victor tells me to sort out the bad smell coming from the kitchen. After thirty minutes of investigation, Lilly and I have finally decided the stench is coming from the back of the fridge.

‘So, they’re alright. Just alright? I need a bit more information than that please,’ Lilly begs as she pulls the fridge out from under the worktop.

A fresh bout of potent smell wafts through the air, so strong that my nostrils burn and my stomach clenches in disgust. I swallow convulsively, my stomach heaving.

‘Oh shit, that's fucking vile,’ Lilly coughs, covering her mouth and nose with her hand.

I nod, trying to think calming thoughts, but the smell keeps creeping into my mouth, trying to gag me. I look behind the fridge, sure to find a skunk covered in his own vomit, wearing a smelly sock. But there’s nothing there.

‘What is it?’ I say in an in-breath, desperate not to consume any of the air.

‘I don't know,’ she says, clearly a lot stronger than me. She grabs a bottle of Cif and starts attacking the area. ‘So come on, what are they like?’

‘Who?’

‘Your housemates! What are they like?’ She pulls out the fridge a bit further and starts inspecting the back of it.

‘Izzy’s a girlie fitness instructor. Grace is a big breasted bitch of a beautiful model. And then there’s just Ryan.’

‘Ryan?’ she asks quizzically as she puts on some yellow marigolds. ‘Ah yes, the beautiful man! What's he like?’ she probes, her eyes widening excitedly.

‘Stop making me talk! I’m gonna be sick!’ I wail.

‘Just tell me!’ she snaps, not bothering to look at me. ‘Anything to take my mind off this.’

I honest to God don't know how she is so close to the smell. Victor gave me this job, but I’ve been pretty useless; just gagging occasionally and running to the sink because I think I’m going to vomit. Lilly is going to make a great Mum one day. Things like this never faze her.

‘He’s ok. Nice...I guess.’

God, I really can't think with this smell. Is something dead?

‘Oh my God,’ she says, leaning away from the back of the fridge with a serious face.

‘What? What!?’

She’s found a dead rat, I just know it. I start backing away into a corner. I can't see it. I’ll drop dead in shock. I’ll never recover. My dreams will be invaded by rats and I’ll wake up screaming. I’ll imagine them following me down the road. People will call me ‘that rat woman’. I’ll have to have years of therapy.

She leans in and studies me seriously. I stare back at her in confusion.

‘What?’

She smiles wickedly. ‘You like him.’

‘No I don't!’ I shout, inhaling some stench in the process. I gag and drop my eyes in a flush of embarrassment. Perhaps I was a bit too dramatic.